


Song Bird

by LeggoxMyxGreggo



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Din Djarin, Light BDSM, M/M, Overstimulation, Top Boba Fett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggoxMyxGreggo/pseuds/LeggoxMyxGreggo
Summary: Boba doesn't need to remove anything more than his gloves and buy’ce to take Din apart and he is more than willing to make Din regret telling him to ‘prove it’.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 4
Kudos: 337





	Song Bird

Beskar was the only metal that Boba had ever heard sing. Sure many other metals were described the same way but anyone who ever heard the sound of pure beskar knew that all other metals fell short. There was something to be said about the sound of it ringing through the cockpit of his ship when Din’s buy’ce hits the floor beneath them as Boba makes quick work of the rest of Din’s beskar’gam, one knee fitted between the man’s legs keeping him effectively pinned with little effort. 

Din’s hands had become useless the moment Boba had slotted his leg between his thighs to put just enough pressure against Din’s hardening member. The man’s hands had skittered across his chest plate before Boba had knocked them aside with a growl. He didn’t need to remove anything more than his gloves and buy’ce to take Din apart and he was more than willing to make him regret telling him to ‘prove it’. 

Each piece of beskar comes off with practiced ease and is set aside behind Boba and out of the way with his own buy’ce. Reaching up, he hooks his fingers under Din’s buy’ce, pressing the metal edge into the soft skin of his neck as Boba forces Din to look at him. The modulator picks up the hitch in Din’s breath at the action. “I am going to grab lube. You,” Boba ignores the press of the beskar into his own fingers as he gives a solid tug, ensuring he has Din’s attention, “you will be undressed before I return.” The beskar rings against the floor again as he lets Din go, not waiting for his response before he pushes himself up to stand. Boba pauses only a moment to take in the sight of Din’s disheveled appearance before slipping from the cockpit. 

He returns to Din quickly, taking in the expanse of pale skin now exposed to him where Din sat. “Unless you have a way for me to fuck you through those trousers, I’d suggest you take them off.” 

The trousers sat low on Din’s waist, loose enough for him to kick off but still he hesitated. “I..the metal is cold.” 

A good reason for hesitation. Boba hums as he walks closer, contemplating Din’s predicament. He didn’t want to leave to grab a blanket, the closest ones he could think of were within his sleeping quarters and at that point, he may as well bring the man with him. There wasn’t enough space there for what he wanted to do to the Mandalorian. His gaze falls to the man’s cape and he wastes no time in tossing it to him. “I’ll buy you a new one.” 

Din huffs softly at the use of his own cape but lays it down without argument and settles on top of it before he hooks his thumbs into the hem of his trousers to slip them the rest of the way off, though they hardly needed the help. Boba watches hungrily as Din is bared to him and his trousers are tossed aside. He settles back into his earlier position between Din’s legs, taking his time to slowly run his hands up Din’s abdomen and chest, fingertips coming to a stop at the flushed skin of Din’s shoulders. Boba presses his lips to Din’s shoulder, sliding a hand up to curl around his throat. Din’s pulse thunders under his palm but he doesn’t pull away.

Boba works his way back down Din’s chest with biting kisses, enjoying the way the modulator in the man’s buy’ce projected what would have been quiet gasps. A graze of his teeth over one of Din’s nipples earns him a soft whimper and he laves his tongue over it in apology before giving the other one the same attention. One of Din’s hands moves to cradle the back of Boba’s head, fingers twitching with each press of teeth and tongue but not trying to move him. He lets Din have that point of contact as he continues to make his way down his chest. His own palm slipped from Din’s throat to grasp his waist, pinning him down as Boba nips the jut of his hip. Din attempts to arch under him, Boba feels the pull of the cape under his knees as Din’s foot slides on the fabric. It makes him chuckle and he’s rewarded with a frustrated sound from above him. A sound that is cut off abruptly as Boba bites Din’s hip hard enough to bruise. 

“So responsive,” he teases, pressing a kiss to the bite before grazing his teeth over Din’s abdomen, cutting off whatever retort the man may have had. A matching bruise is bit into Din’s other hip earning him a sharp gasp as Din tries to twitch his hips away from the assault of Boba’s mouth. The cape under them and Boba’s tight grip on his waist don’t let him get far. Boba raises up enough to reach Din’s throat once more, nipping the space where shoulder and neck meet before sucking a bruise over the spot. He curls his hand around Din’s throat, thumb pressing up against his jaw to tilt his head and bare more sensitive skin.

Already, Din trembled under him as he clung now to Boba’s pauldron, fingers curled over the painted beskar. His chest heaved though the modulator crackled softly, giving away just how hard he was trying now to keep himself quiet. That wouldn’t do. It only takes one hand for Boba to flick open the lube, spreading some over his fingers as the excess dripped onto Din’s thigh, the muscle twitching from the cold slick. Boba chuckles and kisses the bruise he’d sucked into Din’s shoulder, spreading his thighs to spread Din’s legs further. He can feel the way Din’s pulse jumps against the hand still around his throat as he easily slides one finger into him. 

“Boba.” Din’s voice starts as a threat but breaks off into a soft ‘ah’ as Boba slowly moves his hand searching for the right spot, the right angle. He knows he’s found it as soon as beskar once again rings against the floor of the Slave I, Din’s hands grabbing him tightly once more as he uses Boba’s thighs for leverage to roll his hips. Boba doesn’t stop him. Din can’t move far and no matter how hard he tried to roll his hips, tried to get closer, Boba moves his hand with him, keeping the same pressure over that bundle of nerves. 

A second finger slides beside the first and Boba easily finds that angle again. “Boba,” Din says his name like a curse. The following “more,” is nothing more than a breathy gasp. “Please, Boba, please.” The begging is a sweet sound, makes him smile against Din’s throat as he kisses over his thundering pulse. 

“No.” The simple word draws a frustrated sound from Din, and he feels one hand drop away from where Din clung to him. Boba’s quick to intercept, slipping his fingers out from Din to grab his wrist, pinning his hand above his head before he could reach his neglected cock. The hand around Din’s throat flexes in threat as Boba presses close to Din, using his weight to pin him down and keep him from doing anything more than catch his breath. “What did I say?” Boba’s voice is a growl right next to the audio receptor of Din’s buy’ce, earning him a quiet whine of frustration. 

Din tries to move under him, testing his hold. Boba doesn’t let up and instead rolls his hips to press the hard line of his dick against Din’s ass. He’s sure there were going to be marks on Din’s thighs where the armor digs into the bare flesh. This doesn’t seem to bother Din as he curls a leg around Boba’s waist in an attempt to get closer. Boba rolls his hips once more, aching to fuck him but wanting even more to make Din regret his challenge. 

“Give me your hand.” Boba’s voice is gravelly as he speaks, giving away just how effected he was.

The hand currently in his grip jerks forcing Boba to tighten his grip. “You have my hand,” Din taunts.

Boba gives a pointed roll of his hips, squeezing the hand around Din’s throat carefully. “I will fuck that smart mouth out of you, adik’a. Give. Me. Your. Hand.” Din doesn’t move right away, appearing to rethink his situation. Slowly, Din raises his hand above his head to join the one already in Boba’s tight grip. “Do not move them.” Crossing Din’s wrists, Boba presses down on them to make his point, refusing to move until Din slowly nods. He sits back up before pausing, rubbing a hand slowly over Din’s side. “Okay?” His voice is gentle as he checks in. 

A small nod from Din and a soft, “yes,” is all he needs to return to his earlier teasing. There was enough slick still on his fingers and Din’s hole that two fingers easily slip into him as Boba teases a third along the rim. The whimper he gets in response would have been lost without the modulator catching the sound. Pressing a third finger in slowly along the other two, Boba stills to let Din adjust before slowly scissoring his fingers, purposely brushing them across Din’s prostate, earning him a broken moan as Din tries and fails to keep his hips still. The cape pulls taut under his knees again as Din’s tries to get enough purchase to rock his hips. 

The effort makes Boba chuckle, amused by how little it took to get Din to this point. Not desperate, not yet, but close. Din’s neglected dick was hard against his belly, a string of pre-come dripped from his dick to pool on his abdomen, uninterrupted until Din rocks his hips again and the pearlescent strand snaps. Boba shifts his weight, pressing down on Din once more to kiss along his shoulders and throat as he twists his hand, tapping at the sensitive bundle of nerves to feel Din jolt under him. Din’s thighs were trembling around Boba’s waist. He can see Din’s arms trembling as Din fought to keep himself where Boba wanted him, trying so hard to be good. “Can you come like this?” Boba rasps against Din’s throat, “just my fingers inside you.”

Boba lifts his hand from Din’s throat, sliding it up his arm to his crossed wrists. He stills the hand inside him, earning a pitched whine and a breathy “Boba,” that makes him laugh softly as he wraps his hand around Din’s wrists, leaning his weight into them to effectively pin Din once again. “Boba.” His name is nothing more than a sigh. He doesn’t waste time twisting his wrist to press his fingers up into Din once more, ignoring the uncomfortable angle for the low moan he receives. 

A low groan escapes Boba at the sounds he pulls from Din. He ducks his head, letting his forehead rest against Din’s buy’ce as a soft chant of, “please, please, please,” is picked up by the modulator. Boba presses his fingers up firmly against that bundle of nerves, no longer teasing, wanting to bring Din to orgasm on his fingers alone if he could. 

“Din,” Boba’s voice is a low growl. He feels a shiver make its way through Din at the sound and Boba wonders briefly if he shivered that way with every growl or only this time. “I think you can come just like this, can’t you?” The modulator crackles over a needy whine. “Come for me, Din, give me a show.” That seems to be enough to push Din over the edge as he arches under Boba with a cry. He waits for Din to settle before slipping his hand free, releasing Din’s wrists from his bruising hold. Din doesn’t move right away, seeming to be collecting himself before he slowly lowers his arms. Boba takes Din’s hands into his own, checking for bruising over the delicate skin. 

“Fuck me?” 

Boba pauses, unsure if he had heard correctly. “What’s that?” He looks at the visor under him, for the first time wishing he could see the man underneath.

The modulator catches the exaggerated huff from Din and trembling legs wrap loosely around his waist, leaving no room for doubt as Din asks again, “will you please fuck me?” 

“Are you sure?” He checks, not wanting to fuck the man just because he felt obligated to get him off as well. Boba lets his hands fall to Din’s waist, thumbs pressing into the bruises he had left. Din nods instead of speaking, a hand coming down to cover one of Boba’s own. “I need words, Din.” 

Din lets out a low, irritated groan. “I did, twice.” He takes a steadying breath and gives Boba’s hand a tug to pull him closer. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Boba presses a kiss to Din’s shoulder, “okay,” he agrees with a quiet laugh. He makes quick work of his own trousers, tugging them down only as far as he needed to free his aching dick. He wouldn’t last long, not after the show Din had put on earlier. It was a heady feeling to have the beroya begging him to fuck him despite his overstimulation. “Was coming not enough for you?” Boba takes no time to push into Din, only stilling when his thighs are flush against Din’s ass, “Or do you like the feeling of being fucked through overstimulation?” He rolls his hips as he asks the question and is rewarded with a tinny whimper. “Another day,” Boba promises, nearly pulling out all the way before thrusting roughly back into Din, “I will see how much I can push you before you are begging me to stop.” 

Little whimpers fall from Din as Boba sets a quick pace, chasing his own orgasm as Din tries to meet his thrusts. Boba presses his thumb under Din’s jaw, pushing his head up to kiss once more over the soft skin of his neck, nipping at the bruises. Din curls an arm around Boba’s shoulders, clinging to him as quiet moans and whimpers crackle through the modulator with each thrust. He wonders not for the first time what the man sounded like without the distortion and can’t help but hope that he may get to experience it before they split ways. 

His orgasm comes quick and he buries himself to the hilt in Din once more, hips rocking through the aftershocks. Boba rests his forehead against Din’s shoulder as he catches his breath, refusing to move until he can sit up and slip his dick back into his trousers, enjoying the sight of the other man so thoroughly debauched. Boba could see everywhere he’d been as bruises from his mouth and hands darkened against pale skin. He rubs his hands up Din’s sides as he leans up over the man, pleased at how easily Din spread his legs for him to fit between, and rests his forehead gently against the buy’ce, closing his eyes as he feels the gentle pressure of Din pressing back into him. “I have a fresher to get you cleaned up.”

Din groans at the comment but doesn’t pull away. “Don’t talk to me about moving for at least fifteen minutes.”

“You’ve got eight to get off of the floor of my cockpit and into my bunk.” 

There’s silence for a moment before Din voices a soft, “oh.” He nods slowly and then again, a little quicker. “I think I could manage that.” 

Boba hums and taps his forehead lightly to Din’s once more. “Good. I’m not made for kneeling on this floor much longer.” 

“Should have thought of that before you decided to make your point-” 

“I can still fuck that smart mouth out of you,” Boba threatens as he sits up, slipping himself from between Din’s legs to stand and stretch. He doesn’t miss the way Din swallows at the threat as he pushes himself up to slowly follow. Passing Din his trousers, Boba begins collecting the rest of the Mandalorian’s armor, stacking it all into an easy to carry pile that he refuses to pass to its owner. “This will be at my bunk.” Boba straightens to step into Din’s space, grinning at the sight of the man still trembling. “I think you’ll be needing some more time to get down that ladder.” 

Despite the dark tinted visor that protected Din’s face, Boba can tell the dark look he receives for his teasing. He smirks and strides away to wait for Din at the bottom of the ladder.

**Author's Note:**

> • buy'ce - helmet; Colloquially: pint, bucket  
> • beskar’gam – armor; Literally: “iron skin”  
> • ad'ika - kid, lad, boy, sweetie, darling, son, daughter, child


End file.
